


Bigger than us

by loonyloopy



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Smut, UST, power couples
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopy/pseuds/loonyloopy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persephone Trevelyan first falls in lust than in love with the newly crowned head of Orlais.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. meetings

Okay, I'm fairly new to this and I hope, I didn't screw up. You can also find me on tumblr (same name and all) <3

summary: Persephone Trevelyan meets Duke Gaspard and well, things take an interesting turn 

++++  
Celene was dead and Persephone didn't particularly care about it. After all she hadn't know her that well and relied on her advisers and her own impressions. But it made her head hurt and she stretched her legs and grabbed for a goblet of wine. It was dry and red and the best thing after a long day of talks, sitting around and being forced to listen to a bunch of noble Orleasians, who loved their own voices. At the end of the day Persephone was ready to snap or break something. The Inquisition was staying at the Winter Palace a few days longer, to work out the finer aspects about joining forces, troop movements, gold and so on. Gaspard seemed competent enough, strong, forceful. He was charismatic and Persephone often found herself watching him, rather than listening to his arguments. Leliana and Josephine could negotiate, while she did what she was good at. Crushing the armies of Corypheus and fighting in the front row. And Orlais wasn't that shocked about Celene's dead. She saw the grief though and heard the whispers. The people talked about her murder and the imprisonment of that elven ambassador Briala, who'd also offered her a deal. Maybe she should pardon her. Was that still a possibility? Her death sentence sounded so final. Politics weren't her strong side and never had been. Her parents tried to teach her, force her into a role not made for her, subtle words, nice dresses and a bright smile. They had given up when her sister showed the skills she lacked and finally life became easier. 

She admired her sister and her quick mind, while she had trouble concentrating, especially during long conversations. Give her a sword and she was great, but diplomacy... No. And she liked honesty. Backstabbing and intrigues not that much. In fact her leadership sometimes seemed a travesty and a bad joke that no one laughed about. She was born to follow orders, not to give them. Without Josephine and Leliana she would surely be lost and her ambassador was rather proud that she didn't use any swear words during the ball and mentioned the fact a few times during the day. Bull still joked about it, big smile and all. Persephone answered with a slight punch to his head. It made him laugh even louder. 

“Bah.” Wine made her melancholic and she gulped down the rest. The surroundings were depressing. Everything was golden and marble and Orlais so loved their statues of naked women. Her rooms were so large, she was afraid of getting lost in them. Not to mention the massive four-poster bed, adorned with, surprise, more naked women. It felt stuffy. Her favorite place was a plushy red chair, which was wide enough to comfortably let the legs dangle above the armrests and small table where she could hoard her wine. Maybe she needed to pull some favors and smuggle it out of Halamshiral. Being the Inquisitor should come with privileges and Gaspard owned her. A lot. His sister murdered Celene. He had a lot to answer for. Her hair was still wet from her bath and clung to her back in long strands. She'd spent some time in the luxury tub, making castles out of foam and bubbles and ignoring the tall mirrors. They showed the same smashed nose and scars, wide shoulders and muscles from the years of training with the sword and shield. Even her body wasn't made for delicate diplomacy. At least her boobs were quite nice. Josephine had allowed her to finally wear some comfy clothing and she choose a wide tunic and soft trousers, no boots. The carpet felt warm enough beneath her feet. She was nearly asleep when a knock cut through the silence. Persephone tried to grab her sword and her fingers found nothing but air. Her weapons weren't allowed in the palace. Of course. Getting up was hard and her whole body felt heavy, her head weary and thick. She hadn't eaten much during the day because it was hard to figure out Orleasian food. Everything looked like a piece of art and not tasty at all. She straightened her shoulders and soon faced a servant, who wouldn't meet her eyes. He was lanky and pale and so afraid. As if she would kill him because of a breach of protocol. 

“The Duke, eh, Emperor would like to speak with you.” 

“Now?” No answer, but he stepped aside and left. Gaspard was already waiting there, a flask in his hand, two small glasses in the other one. He wasn't wearing his formal armor either, but something lighter and more practical. It fit his broad frame. The night suddenly didn't seem that dull anymore. 

“I have to invite you in? You're the Emperor now and all.” 

“I would advice it, yes.” Persephone shook her head and took a few steps backwards. Her gaze never left him. 

“It's still strange seeing you without the mask. For a while I didn't know, if there was a face beneath the gold.” Was it allowed? To be seen without a mask? Persephone guessed that at this hour only servants would complain and gossip. His features were brash, full of straight lines and signs of war. The short hair was dusted with gray as was his beard. Did she act too forward with mentioning the missing mask? Gaspard only smiled and put the bottle and glasses onto the small table. 

“And my face... is it handsome enough to be seen without it?” 

“I guess.” 

“You have a way with words, I must say.” Gaspard's voice was thick with his accent and he sat down as if owning her rooms. Which he technically was, but … that was not the point. Persephone took the other chair and leaned back, her arms crossed. He smelled faintly of oak and wine and there also was a slight blush in his cheeks. Maybe a sign that he had been drinking for some time now. 

“I brought you some liqueur. Handmade by my family for generation.” He opened the bottle. The liquid itself was thick and a bright red and smelled like strawberries. Persephone scrunched up her nose. 

“Are you trying to court or to kill me?”

“A bit of both?” Ha. So maybe she hadn't imagined the flirty talks at the ball? Persephone wasn't used to sweet words and poems nor strawberry liqueur. Most trysts were raw and fast, without foreplay, without all of this. She took pleasure whenever she felt like it, but with him it had to be different. Gaspard was the ruler of Orlais now. So mighty he may be the only opponent of the Inquisition, besides Corypheus of course. And she clearly didn't want to sleep with him. It left her feeling awkward and vulnerable. 

“What do you want?” “Right to the point, hm? I like that about you. There is no gray, just black and white … you take what you want without thinking about the consequences. There is ash and fire were you walk.”

Gaspard put a glass into her fingers. 

“Drink with me. To our joined future. To ash and fire and the possibilities. ” It tasted as sweet as it looked and goosebumps were covering her body. What did he want? To sleep with her? Be done with it? Maybe showing off to his Court? That he could bed the mighty Inquisitor? Buy her like a common whore? The alcohol wasn't that good. Gaspard was a Chevalier, but also a skilled player of the Game and he could hide his thoughts as well as his late cousin. Right now Persephone couldn't decide, if it was pure lust or something more. There surely was tension in the air and she found herself watching his movements. His eyes were so pale, they almost looked colorless and his hands were broad and scared. Wasn't he married once? Josephine mentioned something about a dead wife. Persephone smiled. 

“Courting then.” 

“Yes.”

It was an invitation. One she choose to accept. In one swift motion she 'd crossed the distance between them. He was almost motionless, but his hands hold her steady and Persephone felt him harden beneath her when their bodies met. His fingers crawled beneath her tunic and found warm, brown skin and scars. It made her laugh a bit. To have so much power, to make an Emperor breath faster, to lose control for once. Did he play to win now as well? Her hips were pressed tightly against his lap, thighs against thighs, her arms around his neck. She moved her body and was awarded with a low moan. Gaspard didn't seem like a man, who liked to be beneath anyone. Especially a woman that could shook the foundation of Thedas with her armies and allies. Persephone's breathing was fast as well, the heat between her legs growing with every second as he trailed some hidden path, firmly cupped a breast in his palm, his thumb circling her nipple. She leaned against Gaspard then, her cheek against his jawline. 

“What do you gain with this?” 

“A night with a pretty woman?” 

“I'm not pretty and not a delicate court flower that you can fuck and use and leave.” 

“I know that.”

“So... what do you want?” 

“You. On the bed. Legs wrapped around me, growling my name, while my cock is inside you.” 

Gaspard's voice was hoarse and faint. It took all of Persephone's will to bring some distance between them and she could clearly see the outline of his arousal. Hm. So he really was broad everywhere. She wanted him. But fucking was a bad idea. With the old Empress dead and so many contracts to write and his rule to confirm. No. She tucked her tunic back in place.

“You have to earn that right.” 

“Do I now.” 

“Yes.” 

Her knees were weak as she stood up. 

“And you can leave now.” Gaspard's mouth was a thin line and his cheeks red. Fury marked his face and she saw what a gruesome rival he would be. 

“I don't take rejection lightly.” There was a threat in his voice, but he got up. Persephone nodded. 

“Me neither.” He didn't shut the door or look back when he left and she decided that she may needed another bath. This time a cold one.


	2. sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone and Gaspard do some good old sparring. (smut at the end)

++++

There was a chill in the air. It spoke of the nearing storms, colder days and rain. The warmth would soon be gone and even the mighty Orlais couldn't be saved from the thunder then. Persephone loved looking at the sky when she ran her rounds. Only a few of them to warm up and get rid of the lingering heaviness, which made her bones and head ache. Her hair was put into a long braid and she wore light leathers and not the heavy armor she preferred in the field. Metal would make too much noise and she rather enjoyed the silence of the sleeping capitol. She still felt old and tired after long, frustrating nights. There was no sleep to be found after such an encounter. Two days now and her mind was still filled with impressions of Gaspard's warmth and broad frame and how his hands had felt on her skin. At one point she'd put a pillow between her legs, soft fabric pressed her, just to get rid of the lingering sensations. A trick learned from her younger sister, who was well versed in bodily needs and knew that such things weren't that easy for her sibling. Persephone laughed, remembering her innocent face and scandalous words, and put her arms above her head to get the muscles to work there as well. She'd always been too proud, too demanding. Man didn't take that well. Gaspard was no exception and why should he be? A Chevalier, a Duke, an Emperor. Orlais bowed to him, reacted to his every whim. Persephone had other things to worry about now and he clearly wasn't childish enough to cut bonds with the Inquisition and act like a spurned lover. They would leave later that day, their things were already packed, the last talks and goodbyes set for mid morning. She had no intention of attending, but Josephine had already send her a note (did she ever sleep?) and bribed her with chocolate. How could she say no that? Her ambassador knew about every weak spot and how to use them against her and she should face Gaspard one last time. He acted as if nothing ever happened and it made her angry. No. Furious. He could at least show something, frustration, anger, lust, some kind of emotion, but his mask gave him power and it was even harder to read him without seeing his eyes.

Charming as ever, no one noticed anything out of the ordinary in his behavior. Amateurs. Persephone wanted him. Badly. But not here. Not now. She wouldn't act like a common courtier, trying to win his approval with her tits out. At least for now she was free to search for the trainings grounds of Halamshiral. The soldiers and guardsman had to train somewhere and Persephone missed her sword and the feeling of it. She found them in one of the outer circles of the complex building. There were rather bland, if compared to Orlesian standard. She only counted about six statues of naked women and the ground was filled with sand, not with marble or gold, or whatever those people liked most. Persephone looked around and took the last steps to the grounds. No roof, almost practical and pretty huge. She noticed some strange apparatuses and remembered tales of chevaliers, who had to fight against swords that were moved by an invisible force. And the lone figure that smashed his sword against a wooden puppet. If she was being honest with herself, she'd hoped to find him here. Masochistic tendencies and all. He was wearing his mask again. Not the fancy one of the ball, but a piece inlaid with gold and emeralds. The colors of his family, as she had learned earlier. It also lacked the silly, yellow feather of the chevaliers. Thank the Maker for small mercies. His armor was lightly padded as well, made for training, not the actual battlefield. Every aim with his sword was precise and deadly. The wood splintered beneath a blow and she watched him awhile, aware of his lethal movements. Chevaliers made killing to an art and Gaspard reminded her of a natural born hunter. A predator that calculated every little step. Persephone grabbed a training sword and tried to get used to the unfamiliar weight.

“Your Imperial Majesty.” She bowed deep enough to give the impression of mockery. Gaspard's jaw tightened.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan.” He didn't bow, but lowered his head a bit. Persephone tried not to stare at his wide shoulders and to appear nonchalant.

“Didn't take you for an early riser. Don't you have servants to do your stuff? Do Emperors actually train?”

“Where is your lovely ambassador? Did she allow you to be on your own for a while?”

“Ouch. Rude.”

"Ah? I'm the rude one?”

Persephone showed him her sword. “Up for a round? You sure need to blow of some steam.”

“As you wish, but don't complain, if I get you all bruised and battered.” “Don't make promises you can't keep.” Gaspard attacked.

Damn, he was fast for a guy of his stature. Their swords met with a dull sound. The blades weren't sharp, but the blow still hurt and made her teeth chatter. She had reacted to slowly and took a better stand, her fingers tight around the haft. Their fighting styles seemed different and while he followed strict instructions, Persephone relied on instinct and force. Damn, where was a shield when a woman needed one. She blocked an attack, countered. Ha! That got him and, judging on his strained expression, made him pretty angry. Persephone started to sweat and she smelled it on him as well. She could her breathing and her the fast pounding of heart and felt gloriously alive. He chose some fancy chevalier step, half a circle, and then a heavy attack. The tip of his sword graced her stomach.

“I have you at my mercy.”

“Never.” Wrath dictated her movements then. She used her strength and Gaspard parried, but it was a desperate attempt and she saw how pale he was beneath the mask. It was a draw for the moment. Their faces were only inches away from each other, separated by swords.

“I may need to apologize. My words and actions the other night were crude and unworthy.” Persephone raised her brows. “So, you don't want to fuck me anymore?”

He smiled. “I didn't say that.” She kicked him in the shins.

Gaspard cursed in his native language. It sounded rather vile and gave her a good opening for an attack. She got a straight hit on his chest and his sword pounded her rips, while he stomped on her foot. Persephone cringed.

“I thought you chevaliers didn't fight dirty.”

“We don't, but I guess there is a first time for anything.”

“Glad to be of service.” Another kick. This time she aimed higher and Gaspard could be happy that he was half a head taller than her. Smaller men would've suffered from bruised testicles by now, but her opponent took a step backwards and made a little bow. He totally enjoyed this. Ass. This fight was far from prying eyes and courtly gossip. Persephone doubted that he would ever speak like that in front of other nobles. Too much was at stake and his rule overshadowed by demons and death, but he was a soldier in his heart and already fought in wars as she could barely hold her sword.

“You fight good for an old man.” She panted. Her chest heaved and sweat made her hair all sticky. The muscled in her back ached in a most delicious way and she felt the call of the Reaver blood in her veins.

“Too old for you?”

“No, I always enjoyed a bit of experience.” Gaspard let go of his sword then and Persephone grinned.

“You give ...”

The words died on her tongue as he shoved her against the nearest wall, lips hungry and hot on hers. His mouth was dry and tasted of sweat and something surprisingly sweet. Maybe his breakfast. It made her smirk and he answered with a small bite. The coldness of the stone and the warmth of his body were a nice contrast and she could spent all day being hold between them. Her fingers loosened the holdings of his mask. The emeralds were too hard on her skin and he didn't complain when it fell to the ground. Touching his bare face was better anyway and she caressed his cheeks, feeling the stubble beneath her fingertips. A gesture far too gentle for her own comfort. She dug her short nails into his neck. Gaspard flinched slightly and broke away, clearly out of air. There were tan-lines in his face, showing where his mask was worn every day.

“Your smart mouth will be the end of you some day.”

“I count on it.” Their brows touched and she could feel this breathing.

“Maybe we should go somewhere private. We're not the only ones to train here and I don't want to cause a scene in the first week of ruling this Country.” Persephone shook her head, got to her knees and opened his trousers.

“But where is the pleasure in hiding? Here we got fresh air, a blue sky, birds chirping.”

“Excuse me?”

But her hands were already on his cock. His breathing hitched and she was pleasantly surprised about his girth. Persephone kissed the bared flesh, dragged her tongue up the shaft and felt it hardening beneath her touch. She licked, tasted, and put one hand on his hip, holding him in place. He didn't protest. It had been a while, but one never forgot the basics. Gaspard's cock was quickly wet from her saliva and firm beneath her touch. He was moaning faintly and Maker, she did love that sound. Almost a purr, sitting somewhere deep in his chest. Her mouth closed around the tip, sucking gently. She took her time and only stopped when his fingers grabbed her hair and urged her to make haste. Persephone wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Her thumb was brushing over sensitive skin, a graze of teeth, not enough to hurt though. Her tongue followed the path of his veins and she took him in again, closed her mouth and eyes. He was hers. He didn't know it yet, but the language of his body spoke loud enough. Gaspard didn't last long after that. She felt his hips and cock jerk. His moaning got louder and his grip was tight and making a complete disaster of her hair. The tension finally left his limbs. Persephone didn't move and tried to decide, if she should risk getting rid of her pants as well. No. The sun was swiftly rising and she didn't want anyone to see her naked arse. Even Josephine couldn't cover such a vulgar display of the Inquisition's forces. She spat his sperm into the sand and wiped her mouth with a sleeve.

“That was nice. We should repeat it some time.”

“Persephone.”

“First name? Oh. All it took was me sucking your cock.”

Gaspard rubbed his eyes and fastened his trousers. He was still a bit shaky though and his face stern as he picked up his mask.

“I'll see you later, Inquisitor Trevelyan.”

“Your Imperial Majesty” A small bow and she left him standing in the shadows. It certainly looked like more nights of pillow loving.


	3. tents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weeks pass, nothing happens and suddenly Gaspard offers a bunch of chevaliers to the Inquisition

++++  
Five weeks. Five weeks filled with the urge to ride back to Orlais and slap Gaspard’s face. Five weeks of dreams that left her hot and bothered and sullen afterward. Using her hands and imagination wasn’t the same. It lacked his taste and smell. Their farewell had been short, filled with superficial words and phrases and the blessings of the Chantry. What would dear Andraste say, about sucking off the mightiest ruler of Thedas right behind a pillar with her face on it? The thought seemed childish and amused her none the less. Andraste surely didn’t die for such debauchery. At the courtyard to many eyes had looked at their faces, as if waiting for the slightest hint of a secret. But how would they know? Gaspard played his part well and Persephone tried to keep her features neutral, with a rather moderate success to be honest.

She could never hope to achieve the same courtly perfection that the Orleasian nobles presented every day of their lives. The journey back into the mountains had been quiet. An uneasy silence, tired talks and orders, which lacked passion and creativity. After two weeks, Josephine had the guts to call her moping. She didn’t mope. No. She was the type for seething anger, raw emotions, and certainly didn’t answer questions concerning her, so called, moping state. And there were more urging matters to be worried about. A war, rifts. But the urge to slap Gaspard reached its peak, when he send the Inquisition a casket full of brandy and liqueur. The nerve. He didn’t bother with a personal note and just wrote something about friendship and loyalty and nonsense. What a waste of time. She didn’t expect cheesy love letters, but a “Your tits are perky” or “Your mouth worked wonders” would’ve been nice. Persephone had emptied one of the bestowed bottles and got so drunk, Bull had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to bed. Behold the mighty Inquisitor in all her glory. Ass in the air, Qunari laughing like mad.

She sat on her throne now, fur beneath her boots and listened to some Arl, who just wouldn’t stop talking about cows. Why cows? Persephone let her eyes wander, ignoring cows and milk, taking in the wooden decoration and the candles. Skyhold was blank compared to everything in Orlais, the bed not soft enough, the food not seasoned and the wine tasted sour. Oh, and Cullen’s black eye was still visible. A training accident, which showed that her shield could hit pretty hard and rattle even a Commander’s head. The poor guy was out of it for a few minutes and she had to listen to a lecture about not harming the Inquisition’s soldiers a day later. Josephine was so good in choosing her arguments. A polite cough got her attention. The Arl had stopped talking a while ago and most of the hall was looking at her. Persephone pressed her back against the throne. Josephine’s smile was sweet.

“A message arrived, Lady Inquisitor.”

“Hm?”

“A.message.from.His.Imperial.Majesty.”

Please not another casket of his precious bottles, made of precious Serault glass, filled with precious strawberry alcohol. She nodded, her voice a slow drawl.

“Oh? To what do we own this honor.”

Josephine bowed and gave her the parchment.

“He is sending us 15 chevaliers and wants you to great them personally. They’re waiting at a bastion near the border.”

“I … what?”

“His Imperial Majesty writes that the chevaliers are bound by honor and will follow no one, but the Inquisitor herself.”

“I guess, I still got no impersonator?”

“No, my lady. And if I may add, this is a great opportunity for us. The chevaliers are well trained fighters and will greatly aid our cause.”

Beaten at the game again. The implication that Gaspard could rule her, was discomforting. One letter and she had to leave the security of Skyhold. He sure loved his displays of powers and with the demons rising, she needed every sword. And he knew that, of course. It left a sour taste in her mouth. Being used as a puppet was certainly no way to express affections. Did she expect another reaction? No. Persephone crushed the letter in her hand.

“If you put it this way … we ride in two days.”

——-

And almost three days later, her mood was as sore as her ass. She was a good rider, her thighs strong and thick, but they had barely made a pause, rode on until their steeds glistened with sweat. The Inquisition was in a hurry now, whispers about Corypheus growing louder every day. He was pushing into the Arbor Wilds and she could feel that it would end soon. One way or another. Persephone had Cullen with her and a handful of Inquisition soldiers and somewhere at the back of the small group where Dorian, Bull and Sera probably making jokes about Orlesian cheese or architecture. Most of the soldiers were Fereldan as well and joining the light banter. She couldn’t concentrate on their easy laughter. Her nerves were too brittle these days, the anchor hurting and glowing and Gaspard ordering her around like a fool.

She stopped her horse, as they saw the banners of the De Chalons family.

“Make way for the Herald!”

The voice belonged to a young woman, who had waited for their arrival. The bastion was nothing more than rubble and one ring of grey stone, nearly overgrown with grass and plants. Tents had been erected and fires glowed against a dark sky. There was singing and cheering to be heard. A good sign. Persephone gave the reigns to the Orlesian soldier.

“Take care of our horses.”

Being out of the saddle was glorious. Persephone stretched her aching limbs and sighed long and loud. Her armor was heavy and she already felt the strain that had settled deep in her bones and muscles. She tapped Cullen’s back.

“Make sure our men behave.”

“I will, Inquisitor.”

The ex templar was one of the most competent figures in the Inquisition. Always giving more than he actually could and listening to her orders, which she rather adored. The soldiers liked him and that was important as well. Persephone quickly scanned the gathered crowed, but no one looked like Gaspard. It had been a foolish hope. His slapping needed to wait a bit longer.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan.”

A large woman emerged. She was taller than Persephone and her hair showed the first signs of gray, while she held herself with a certain grace born out of years of service in an army. Her armor was gold and white and her face stern.

“We’re honored to join your forces, my lady Inquisitor. Five women and ten men are ready to ride with you against the demon and his foul army.”

Persephone clasped her hand in hers and the metal made a clunking sound.

“I’m deeply moved by your generous offer. What is your name?”

“Claudette Moreaux, my lady. I’m the leader of this group.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance. We have much to discuss, but it has to wait for the morning. Right now I need something to eat and drink. And I should find some water and soap. I smell like horse.”

“We got a roasted boar and some ale ready for you and your troops. There is also a tent suited to your needs.”

“Thank the Maker.”

Claudette grinned. Persephone liked her immediately.

As it turned out Fereldans and Orlesians could be friendly with each other. Persephone watched the mixed groups, heard they laughter and voices. Some were drunk on the ale, but there was no quarrel and no grief. Now was not the time for old grudges. Bull was the center of attention, comparing stories about heroic deeds and at least four of the chevaliers were impressed. Sera laughed along with them and even Dorian didn’t hide in his tent, but shared his experiences in fighting demons. His nose scrunched as he retold his adventures with a desire demon.

She had welcomed the chevaliers earlier, made a short speech about loyalty and earned some cheers and shouting, Josephine would have been so proud. Persephone stood at the side and enjoyed the sight of her ever growing army and the friendships it brought with them. She didn’t particularly care for children, but did parents felt like that? Pride. Asking her own would’ve been a waste of time though. There weren’t on speaking terms right now. Some of the men and women looked young, faces fresh and clean, where other like Claudette had seen a war or two, scars and shadowed eyes. It was a good night, full of hope. Sore ass or not.

Persephone did hear the soft steps, felt a motion behind her back. Leather clad arms encircled her waist and her back was held against a strong chest. She knew his smell, now mixed with sweat and horse.

“Gaspard?”

“First name? All it took was me luring you out into the wilds. Got into my trap like a scared hare.”

“Bastard.”

Her dagger was out and she nicked his wrist. The blood was dark against his skin and his face hidden beneath a hood. Persephone doubted that one of the chevaliers knew that heir Emperor had followed them, clothed like an assassin waiting for the kill. She grabbed his arm, dragged him into his tent and was satisfied when he stumbled over some roots. Serves him right. They shouldn’t be seen together. Or heard. Considering their voices were loud and angry. Gaspard sounded like thunder and storm.

“Are you mad?”

Persephone hit him square in the chest.

“NO. Are you? Playing me like some of your courtiers, offering soldiers to get me here? What the fuck, Gaspard. What did you expect? That I fall to my knees and suck your cock again?”

Gaspard had the nerve to look guilty and pushed down the hood. He wasn’t wearing his mask and in the dim light of her tent he reminded her of a bird of prey, beak like nose and cold eyes.

“I … what do you want? You know we haven’t actually talked that much.”

Persephone let go of the dagger, her voice quiet.

“I need to be your fucking equal, Gaspard. Your equal not a silly girl you can order around.”

It had taken her a while to figure out what she wanted. What this was about. Emotions were fucking horrible. Lust was easier to handle. She should’ve fucked him the first night and be done with it. Maybe getting it out of their systems, would’ve spared her some shitty weeks.

He was distraught. Uncertainty dominating his face. Gaspard stood straighter than before, arms clasped behind his back, while he bowed his head. Here she was, the leader of the Inquisition, demanding an apology from the Emperor of Orlais. And he gave it.

“I’m sorry, Persephone. I thought, it doesn’t matter now. It was a sorry excuse for a plan, dishonorable and not worthy of someone like yourself.”

“No kidding.”

“How can I atone for my misgivings?”

The worst of the anger was gone and she heard the mock challenge in his tone.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. Your intelligence is one of your better qualities.”

“And what would be the others?”

“Your cock and I really like that little scar beside your left eye.”

“Well, I’m truly blessed then.”

“A bit. Maybe.”

Gaspard took of his cloak, his leather gauntlets followed, but the rest stayed where it belonged. Getting rid of her armor wasn’t the best foreplay and he was too focused on getting her naked, while he was still prim and proper. Persephone’s objections about this were muted with lips, as he pulled her towards her. She felt the hard lines of his riding leathers rubbing against her nakedness. A few seconds later and his mouth was on hers, her neck, sucking at the pulse, which was solid and fast beneath his tongue. Moaning she trusted her body against his. It was unfair. To be this naked, while he was almost fully clothed. Gaspard’s tongue followed a scar that ran down to her breasts, encircling the right one. Ugly and marred, he still kissed it. Another scar followed. This one close to her navel and a shiver ran through her spin.

“So many scars… one day you have to tell me where you got them.”

“Less talking more licking, if you would.”

Gaspard chuckled, the sound vibrating in her chest. She could see the sweat on his brow and how he tried to be patient, when he wanted it as bad as her. His right hand was on her thigh and swiftly moving to the center of her body. She bit her lip to suppress her moans as he slid one finger against her labia. Then another one, rubbing the wet flesh not to gently. He draw circles with his fingers and carefully avoided her clit. Gaspard’s mouth was pressed against her lips again and she put a hand at his neck to pull him down.

“Teasing shit.”

He broke the contact, still smiling, lowered his whole body and settled between her legs. Persephone felt his stubble against her thighs, a kiss on her skin and his breath. Gaspard was spreading her legs with his arms, holding them open with a subtle force. Not enough to hurt, but she enjoyed the strain in her lower back.

“Lift your hips.”

“Say please.”

“Please.”

He blew against her. The cold air a strange sensation for her hot flesh and her body was reacting to his every touch, nipples hard and goosebumps on her legs. His first lick made her moan.

“You want to be my equal, yes?”

“Yes…”

Talking was hard. Thinking was hard. Everything was. She was nothing more than some molten core, with her hips seemingly moving on their own, trying to get more contact. Gaspard took his time, slow and gentle, licks and kisses. Sucking her clit. He made her writhe and clutch the pelts, which covered the ground. Why was he so good a this? When she thought that she couldn’t handle it any longer, he just stopped and put his head on her stomach.

His mouth was wet.

“I thought about you and your smart mouth. How you hold your sword, how you never look away, even when addressed by people, who think they’re your superiors. Your strong legs. Imagined how they would feel wrapped around me.”

His laugh was so out of place, as if he didn’t know what to make of himself. Maybe he was as afraid as her.

“Had to touch myself quite often, because of that. It was quite disgracing.”

She was breathing too fast.

“Do you want to hear me beg? Finish this, Gaspard. Or I will.”

Persephone felt her heart beating against her rips and her movements were uncoordinated, but she managed to shove his head down. His hair was too short for grabbing, but pushing did the trick.

And the heat engulfed everything. It was almost violent. Heat and more heat, crashing down on her. She became very still for a while. Persephone could taste sweat on her lips, felt the soft fur beneath her back and the weight of Gaspard’s arms. Something had come undone, like it had been torn apart by him. She covered her eyes. A part of her hated him for this and how he could so easily reduce her to a whimpering fool. Sex hadn’t felt that good before. Never. Her pulse beat between her ears and rubbed her legs together. She could feel him there.

“That was…”

“Delightful?”

“Not the word I would use, but yeah … delightful.”

Gaspard cleaned his mouth and stood up. From her point of view, she could see his arousal.

“Why don’t you get yourself naked as well? I may be a bit tired, but I have some neat Reaver tricks concerning my stamina.”

Instead of following her suggestion, he looked for his cloak, groaning.

“Sadly, I have to part with you again.”

“You took a, what was it? Six hour ride to make me orgasm and then … leave? Did you forget the part about being an equal and all? I can write it down for you, if you want.”

“I have to attend a ball tomorrow. My allies will tear me apart, if I don’t be there on time. Nobles are like sheep waiting to be guided by a wolf. Trust me, I would rather spend my time with you, but this night will be over quickly.”

He grabbed her hand and got her to stand on shaky legs. Their faces were close and the smell of her in his breath. Okay, it was a nice gesture. He could’ve easily put it in and be done with it, or stay in his palace, sitting on his ass. Riding with a hard-on would be far less delightful.

His thumb was caressing her jaw.

“Believe me, if I had more time on my hands I would make you come again and again and moan my name.”

“Hm, promise?”

“Yes. I promise. We have to stop meeting like this… once we won this, we will have time for us.”

He fastened the cloak, put the hood above his face and turned to leave. They’re weren’t good with farewells. Perhaps would never bee. Persephone grabbed a blanket to shield her body against the chilly air.

“And Gaspard?”

“Yes?”

“If you send me liqueur again, I will openly declare war on Orlais.”

“Understood.”


	4. picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine and Persephone have a talk about Gaspard

++++  
“This is nice.”, Persephone smiled and looked at the thick blanket, the frail porcelain, probably Antivian, the chocolate cakes and smelled the sweet fragrance of some apple flavored tea. Josephine had chosen Skyhold’s garden for their weekly meeting. She sat down and eyed the small forks, which were made for eating the even smaller delicacies.

“Is this even edible? It looks like a dollhouse.”

“Of course, Persephone.”

Josephine poured some tea in their cups. She kneed, her golden frock spread around her legs like a halo and how was that comfortable? Persephone preferred sitting cross-legged. It was easier to put a cup or a plate on her legs then. The sun was warming their faces and it could’ve been so peaceful and charming, but Josephine’s eyes were dark with worry.

“Why are you acting so serious? Have I done something stupid again?”

“No! It’s not that and don’t call yourself stupid. We already discussed that.”

She waited for her to continue and shoveled three spoons of sugar in her tea, put her fork into one of the cakes. Delicious.

“Persephone, as your ambassador and especially as your friend, I have to warn you that Gaspard de Chalons isn’t a pleasant man. He killed, if not with his sword than with words and deeds. He has played this game for so long and he won’t allow anything or anyone to stand between him and the throne of Orlais.”

Oh shit. 

In shear shock, Persephone swallowed the whole cake and coughed. She had to slap her chest to breath regularly again. How did she know? Leliana may be the spymaster, but it seemed that Josephine shared some of her talents. Smart people were scary. Was playing innocent an option? Persephone tried.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You know why. You haven’t been exactly subtle in your dalliances.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. I had to bribe two nobles and three soldiers, who are now happily enjoying their time in the Western Approach, taking a sunbath or two.”

“Shit.”

“Yes, shit too. The rumors are quenched for the moment, but please for the sake of the Inquisition try to be more subtle and quiet. My advise would be, to end it, but I know you too well for that. There is no stopping you, if you’ve made up your mind.”

Josephine’s shoulders sacked and she looked so concerned, it made Persephone very unhappy. She grabbed her hand, knocked over her cup, and searched for an explanation. Her thoughts were running wild. Crushing your friend’s fingers perhaps wasn’t the best idea either and she let go of them, while the tea was quietly soaking through the blanket. All she had wanted was a nice and calming afternoon. Why was everybody so keen on talking these days?

“Josephine, … I … shit. I trust you, completely, you know that.”

Persephone was greatly unnerved.

“But I’m not a pleasant woman. I’ve disbanded the templars and forced them into servitude, I let an Empress be killed for my own gain. Just look around. Bull killed for money, Dorian grew up with slaves and he sees nothing wrong it, Cullen still has problems trusting the mages and lets not start with the shit that Leliana pulled in her years of service to the Chantry. I just …”

Her voice was strained.

“No one is perfect. No one is just good or bad. Gaspard is fierce and strong and loyal and he wants me. I can work with that. ”

The silence that followed, scared Persephone. She didn’t want to lose Josephine. Not because of some stupid quarrel about Gaspard de Chalons. The guy was probably sitting on his throne right now, eating peeled grapes, and enjoying a naked bard or two. No one would try to have the talk with an Emperor. Besides Josephine. She was brave enough to face anyone. 

“You sound almost sensible.”

“Only almost?”

“The fierce part was a bit strange and I don’t want to know the details.”

“I’ll try better next time.”

Josephine laughed and rescued the fallen tea cup. The porcelain had survived the fall and was quickly filled with tea again.

“But promise me to take care.”

“I will.”

“Good. Then let us eat the sweets and act like nothing ever happened.”

Persephone agreed and the cake tasted like caramel and chocolate and a pinch of salt. Was it allowed to bath in molten sweets? Maker, she was the Inquisitor. She could do anything and there was a spot of chocolate on her chin.

“So, now that the awkward part is over. Do you want to talk about Blackwall?”

Josephine blushed, just a bit, and it was adorable.

“Absolutely not.”

“I guessed as much.”


	5. waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after fighting in the arbor wilds, Persephone wakes up in a healer's tent

++++  
“She’s awake.” 

Persephone didn’t know the voice, didn’t know anything but the pain in her chest and head. The world was too bright for her eyes and she saw shadowy figures walking around. Something smelt of herbs and her skin prickled with a touch of magic, while her throat felt raw and abused, her lips cracked. Where was she? Persephone’s thoughts were too muddled and chaotic and she remembered a fight, screaming, the taste of blood. The Arbor Wilds? Old voices in her head. The Well of Sorrows and armies clashing. More blood. Had they lost? Did she die? Where was the Maker though and the warm feeling of eternal peace. Judging by the pain in her head she wasn’t dead. Not entirely. She fought against the rising panic, which made her sweat and her breathing shallow. Moving her legs didn’t work and her arms felt like filled with lead. Shit. Something heavy was laying on her chest. A hand? The fingers were warm and rough.

“Persephone. Calm down. You’re safe.”

She recognized his voice. Deep, calm, and a heavy accent tinting every word.

“Gaspard?”

Persephone willed her body to lay still, but moved her head and tried to look at him. It was indeed Gaspard sitting at her side and still in full armor. His skin looked pale beneath the mask and there was blood on the blue metal. The throbbing in her head nearly made her sick and her voice was hoarse. Since when did speaking hurt that much?

“What happened?”

“We’re in one of the healer’s tents. They ordered me to give you this.”

With a surprising gentleness, he lifted her head and put a mug against her lips. The smell of herbs grew stronger and she tried not to choke, while drinking. The liquid was cool and calming and the fog lifted. Elfroot? And a whole bunch of other plants, if she guessed right. Persephone closed her eyes and enjoyed the relief of fading pain. Her fingertips started to tingle. Breathing still hurt, but not as much as before and she felt the softness of the blanket that covered her. She was alive.

“You may want to ask what happened.”

She nodded.

“We won. Corypheus army is nearly destroyed. After you convinced his Commander to leave, some of the Tevinter mages decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble and followed her. Seems he couldn’t control them forever. Our losses are bearable and the men and women of Orlais fought alongside yours. They’re already celebrating and drinking and shouting your name.”

A small smile appeared on Persephone’s face.

“But you don’t.”

“No, not while you were unconscious.”

“That’s quite romantic for an Emperor. Did you rescue me on your white horse and with your golden sword and shield? Where doves involved?”

His groan was so familiar that the simple sound of it felt great.

“I see you’re finally feeling better. The beating surely didn’t affect your glib tongue. And as a matter of fact my horse is indeed a white stallion, but my weapons are not made of gold.”

Gaspard’s mocking lacked the usual vitriol and when Persephone looked at him, she could easily see his smile. The flutter in her chest felt good, but the memories were vague. They’d fought against ancient elves and she drank from an old artifact, which was the key in defeating Corypheus once and for all. Morrigan was furious afterward, but she didn’t trust that mage one bit. Courtmage or not. She had been Celene’s pawn and played a game, which Persephone didn’t understand. There had been fighting outside the temple, mages and some very large demons. Too many of them. One must have gotten her pretty bad. Gaspard stood up, lifted the blanked, and Persephone noticed how most of her upper body was wrapped in linen.

“You got some cracked ribs, a collection of new scars and you should be glad that your skull is as thick as it is, because that one blow would’ve killed less stubborn people.”

“Haha. Always the comedian.”

“For you, yes.”

He sat down again and took her hand into his. His fingers gently traced the scratches on her knuckles.

“That Qunari of yours carried you here. You were pale and bloody and slumped over his shoulder like a sack of wheat. It was quite the shock and we had to convince the soldiers that heir Herald isn’t dead, but merely wounded. Ambassador Montilyet was very upset, as were your Commander and spymaster and most of your strange group of friends. They took turns in sitting here.”

Gaspard kissed her hand and his pale eyes were ever so warm, the pupils huge.

“I would advice against doing anything like that ever again.”

There was the flutter again, as if her heart wasn’t used to such talk and care. Well, it was awkward. Persephone blinked and coughed, because she didn’t know what one should say in such a situation. It didn’t help that she couldn’t move that much. Or flee.

“Are you my personal healer now? If yes, you should shed some of your armor and clothing. I need to watch something nice, if I have to spent more time here. And I don’t remember much, but your butt looking nice.”

Another chuckle and he let go of her hand and leaned back on the uncomfortable looking chair. His arms were crossed before his chest. Gaspard clearly survived the battle with the usual share of minor wound, but nothing too serious. Didn’t he have better things to do than watch over her? Who was ruling Orlais in his absence? He’d always made the impression that he didn’t trust anyone and ruled with an iron fist and not with diplomacy. But he had the chevaliers at his side and the Inquisition. Who would be stupid enough to go against them.

“I doubt that seeing me naked will improve your health.”

“But my mood.”, she whined. 

“Fair point. But think of the poor, faint-hearted sisters, who may enter this tent.”

“I’m the Herald. They would surely forgive me.”

Gaspard kissed her forehead, stroked her cheeks.

“Get well and we can talk about naked butts.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”


	6. bathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quality time in the arbor wilds

++++   
“Are you sure that this is a good idea, Inquisitor?” 

Persephone ignored Gaspard. She was dressed in gray thing, which had been left behind by the healers. Its featureless cut reminded her of a sack filled with potatoes and it certainly didn’t suit her. At all. But the dress was the best she could do right now. They’d hidden her armor and leathers, as if the Inquisitor would sneak out like a common thief, while ignoring their healer’s request. Well, she did. But after three days of sleeping, lying around like a lazy cat, and being told that moving was not advised, she’d felt herself go mad. She needed fresh air and to move her legs and body. Boredom was far more dangerous than a horde of demons. Not to mention her smell. No one thought about maybe bathing the Herald of Andraste. The Maker wouldn’t want a stinking hero at his side. Persephone had waited until her daily meeting with Gaspard, who was still not heading home, but staying at her side, and bribed Sera to create a distraction. Judging by the sounds and screams that filled the camp, she fulfilled her end of the bargain. And it only meant baking cookies for a few weeks. Persephone could live with that and laughed when she saw a sister of the Chantry fleeing from a bunch of angry bees. Sera was really good with those insects. Remarkable. 

It was time to finally flee the damned tent and she grabbed a hard piece of soap and a heavy hand stopped her escape.

“You were hurt…” Persephone pushed Gaspard away and held open the fabric of the tent.

“I got better. Come on.” 

He muttered something very Orlesian, and probably very filthy, beneath his breath, but followed her. Ha. For an Emperor, he was surely easy to persuade. The sun had barely reach its peak and the day was warm, almost hot. For few seconds, the brightness hurt in her eyes, but Persephone was determined to see this plan through. They followed a narrow path, avoided the guards and suspicious eyes of Leliana’s spies. To be honest, her rips hurt and she was out of breath after a few minutes. Gaspard kept his mouth shut about that and followed quietly. Chivalry wasn’t dead after all. The Arbor Wilds were a thing of beauty, when not being filled with an army of ancient evils. Bright birds sat on thick, green trees and she felt her nose tingle, because of all the different flowers. Constant sneezing was the last of her problems right now and she ignored the urge.

“Am I allowed to ask where we are going?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“You’ll see.” Her destination was a small pond of water, which Bull had found earlier that week. Hopefully he didn’t share his secret with anyone, but her and his Chargers. She’d kick anyone out of there, just to be alone for a while. The constant concern about her welfare was a heavy trial for her nerves. Josephine had held her hand, Cullen had brought cake and ale and all of the Chargers tried to cheer her up with stories. Except for Grim, of course. Not to mention Sera’s cookies and Cassandra’s books. How could one even read that nonsense. Persephone spent one day with trying to work out Varric’s writing, but found her concentration gone after the third page or so. It wasn’t that she disliked being cared for. It was great to see how many people were affected, but silence and quiet seemed like a better cure for her body. Gaspard wasn’t the most talkative and his brooding stillness calmed her, which made him the perfect partner in crime.

Persephone cut through a bunch of bushes and was relieved to find the pond and the surroundings empty. They’d reached a serene place, the water deep, sparkling and blue, and confined by rocks and vegetation, and entirely hers for the foreseeable future. She took off her boots and the grass seemed green and soft beneath her toes. Everything was free of ugliness and death for once. It only lacked some unicorns and maybe a waterfall. Persephone grinned.

“Well. What do you say?”

It was hard to read his expression, because half of his face was hidden behind a blue and white mask, included the yellow feather of the chevaliers. Orlesian people were pretty stupid and pretty vain after all. 

“It’s, well,… nice.”

“Nice? It looks like Varric had invented it.”

“But where are the gallant guardsmen? And the naked people?”

“I’m sure we can find a solution for the latter.”

And with that she pulled the dress over her head. Persephone tried to look alluring while doing so, but failed terrible. Her hair got tangled in the fabric and she hissed, as a painful sting made her body go still. Stupid rips. Gaspard raised his brows.

“You know, I could help you?”

“Shut it.”

“As you wish. I’ll just enjoy the view then.” With a shrug he sat down and put his back against a tree. Great. That put her plans of a cozy naked swim to an end. Persephone took the soap and stepped into the pond. It was surprisingly warm and she hoped that they’re no exotic fishes trying to eat her. The ground was slippy and she walked until she could barely stand.

“The water is nice. Sure you don’t want to join me?”

“I’m good.”

Prick. She started with washing her hair and fighting a losing battle against the thick strands and tangles. One day she’d cut it short. To be a warrior and have long hair was a stupid luxury anyway. She’d always been pretty self conscious, especially about her hair, which was the one thing she really cherished about her appearance. Cutting it would feel strange. Gaspard watched her movements, didn’t let his eyes wander once. How unnerving.The soap smelt of herbs and felt rough, but it did the trick. Her body relaxed and the little pains and aches faded a bit. The pond was nothing compared to her huge bathtub in Skyhold, but it was better than nothing. 

Feeling clean she climbed out, not even trying to cover herself. His eyes stayed focused on her. Persephone put her hands on her hips and waited for him to talk.

“So, you didn’t only escape to take a relaxing bath?”

“Nah, I also wanted to fuck you. Celebrating our victory with a good tumble and all.”

Didn’t she make her intentions clear? At this point Gaspard should’ve noticed that maybe there was a bit more to their relationship than political dependence. He took of his mask, but didn’t move. Persephone raised an eyebrow.

“Are you waiting for me to come over?”

Gaspard nodded. Well, if he wanted it to happen like this.

Persephone sat on his knees, naked and wet, and she saw how his eyes followed a small trickle of water. He was already hard. His trousers tight, but his face gave nothing away. No desire or passion, only hard lines. Gaspard was so good at keeping up appearance. Just once she wanted to see him lose all sense of dignity and self awareness. 

Her legs touched the grass and her hands rested on his legs. Maybe she wasn’t as bad at seduction as she’d thought, because Gaspard started to sweat. She opened the bindings of his trousers and wrapped her fingers around his cock. His gasp was barely audible, but made her smile anyway.

“Still enjoying the view?”

“Yes,” he hissed and Persephone took it for an invitation. She lowered her body onto his, put her arms around his neck, but didn’t move. Her breasts rubbed against the coarse fabric of his tunic, but this felt good. Really, really good. After a foreplay, which had lasted for a few months, she finally had him where she wanted him to be, helpless between her thighs. His hands were on her hips, fingers digging into skin and flesh. Persephone could feel his impatience, see the strain in his muscles. He wanted this as much as her, if not more. Hadn’t he confessed to thinking about this? The thought made her pulse quicken. Gaspard’s nose was pressed into her neck and his stubble scratched her skin.

“Hm, you smell good.”

“You see? Bathing is important.”

He grunted.

“Move your hips, or I will.”

She did. It was easy to find a rhythm, to grind against his crotch. The sound of their meeting bodies was vulgar, but neither of them minded. He held her in a close embrace and restricted her movements. Gaspard put a hand between them and his fingers found her clit. The pleasure was raw and hurt. Just the right amount. Pleasure and pain had always been connected for her. Gaspard kissed and licked and bit her mouth, then sucked at her throat. Persephone was sure he did it to mark her. A reminder of this. They lasted mere minutes and she felt her body tighten around him and her hips rocking against him without any kind of control. She was getting loud and his lips couldn’t stifle her screams. Gaspard followed and his groan reminded her of a pack of wild dogs. His short nails left red scraps at her back and then it was over. Persephone tried to talk, but was out of breath and her heart hammered against her chest. Her rips felt bruised and battered and for a time, black spots blinded her vision. Worth it. Gaspard lazily stroked the skin between her breasts, the muscles of her stomach, her thighs. He was silent as well and his were pupils wide and black. Was this the afterglow? She’d thought it only existed in stories. Persephone didn’t want to move. Being joined felt fantastic, if a bit sticky, and she was getting drowsy. As it seemed, satisfaction way a key element to having a restful sleep.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan?”

It was one of her scouts. A young man with a high pitched voice and clearly looking for her, while shouting and scaring a bunch of colorful birds. She heard others following and prayed to the Maker that they wouldn’t burst through the bushes and find the Imperial Majesty and the Inquisitor joined at the middle. Just one moment of peace. After all of this, she would take a nice long break of everything. Persephone leaned her head against Gaspard’s shoulder and whispered.

“Tell me you heard that too?”

“Seems like they finally noticed your absence. We should get dressed.”

She started to pout.

“Shit, I was hoping for another round. Maybe two. It’s a pretty place for dalliances.”

Gaspard laughed and shook his head.

“Later, my dear. I promise, I’ll fuck you.” He bit her lip. “Bent over my desk, against a wall, maybe two or three times in my bed. Everywhere you want me to.”


	7. advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Persephone also have a talk about Gaspard

++++  
Cullen was a sight for sore eyes. In the early hours of the morning, with the sun barely reaching Skyhold’s battlements, his hair was gold and his shirt loose enough to show pale muscles and sweat. The pants were tight and offered a spectacular view of his backside. She had watched him for a while, silent and almost creepy, but how should she resist such a magnificent performance? He always was the first to grab his sword and shield and smash them against the wooden dummies. Persephone guessed it was some kind of self punishment, testing his strength and discipline until he was tired and aching. He wanted to redeem himself so badly and get rid of the templar’s stench once and for all. Typical Fereldan. Stubborn as a mule. Straw spilled on the ground with every hit. Her Commander was a force of nature and they still needed to properly decline the marriage proposals that flooded Jospehine’s desk after the grand ball. And the poor guy didn’t even know what his appearance did to women and men alike. Maybe it was a part of his rural charm. Persephone whistled, when she entered the training grounds. Cullen wiped the sweat off his brow and looked surprised, startled. 

“Inquisitor. What an honor. Up so early?”

“Pure accident. I love my comfy bed.”

She grabbed a sword and pointed upwards.

“Did you know that there are at least six Inquisition agents on the battlements watching you practice?”

Cullen followed her glance.

“Excuse me?”

“Six agents, watching you and having a good time. You’re a nice sight for tired and fighting soldiers. Thank you for improving our troop’s moral.”

Cullen groaned, but he couldn’t hide the patches of red forming on his neck.

“Now you’re joking.

“No. I would never tease my precious Commander. Just wave and smile.”

“I will not.”

“Spoilsport.”

Persephone smirked and raised her sword, a quiet challenge. Cullen nodded and took position. He let go of his shield and attacked her. The shear force of his hit rattled her bones and while she was tall, he had some inches on her. Not to mention broadness and weight.

“I wanted to talk to you anyway, Persephone.”

“Oh, about what?”

She kicked his leg, which was dirty, but necessary. A series of thrusts and parries followed and neither one tried to hold back. His templar training dictated his movements and she was happy that he couldn’t use his abilities any longer. It was sword against sword, no fancy glowing lights. Persephone felt her muscles starting to warm up and Cullen’s face was stern. She swung her sword in a low blow.

“No. I know that expression. If you want to give me the talk, spare me your words. Josephine already had the honor of informing me about harming dalliances.”

“She did. Hm. Then this will be over quickly.”

Cullen ducked, spun around and Persephone found his training sword at her throat. The tip pressed against her skin, marking the fight as over. She rolled her eyes and he had the nerve to smile. Prick.

“Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Simple question? Are you happy?”

Cullen put his sword back on the retainer and his shoulders sagged. The blond curls were plastered to his forehead and Persephone saw the melancholy in his eyes and fought against the urge to hug him. Commander puppy eyes at his best.

“Happiness is rare these days. All that death and loss. Who knows, if we’ll even survive the coming weeks.”

He shrugged.

“So I would advice you’ll take it, when it crosses your way. I mean… your taste is questionable, but we’d always known that you’re a bit strange.”

“Ouch. That was rude.”

Cullen took two mugs of water from a nearby barrel and handed on to her. They leaned against the fence, both looking into the sky and trying to calm their breathing The clouds seemed red and orange and so large above Skyhold. She nudged him with her elbow.

“And … I guess, I am? It’s silly, it still feels good. What about your happiness?”

“It comes and goes.”

“Doesn’t sound that great.”

“I promised to never lie to you again. So, yes. That is my answer.”

Cullen drank from his mug and his chuckle took her by surprise.

“You know, for a time…,” he stopped. “No, that is silly.”

Persephone nudged him again. This time harder.

“Spill it!”

The sadness was back and she wondered, if it would ever leave him. He had told her what happened in Ferelden and later in Kirkwall, how he was abused and used and nearly died so many times. She knew about his nightmares and how the lyrium sang for so long. Persephone sighed and rubbed her temples, while his eyes were focused on the sky. Maybe she’d buy him his favorite cakes. Food sure made her happy. 

“Once I thought that maybe … that maybe we would have a chance with happiness?”

That got her attention. Persephone’s eyes were wide and she studied his profile. They had never talked about such a thing or the quiet talks they’d shared or that they maybe … Maker. This was awkward. She bit her lip.

“You and me?”

He rolled his eyes. Had she acted so oblivious? Missed something important? Shit. 

“With all that flirting and teasing and I know you still admire my arse. So yes, you and me.”

To be honest there had been that one moment, when they nearly kissed, but it faded without either of them doing anything. She valued his friendship and his strength. He was the backbone of the Inquisition and she needed him, but not like that. It was her time to blush now.

“No offense, Cullen, but you’re too pretty for me.”

“Too pretty? Really now.”

“Yeah, too pretty. People would be like: Oh look the Inquisitor got herself a husband, who is far too pretty for her.”

“No, you’re just unreasonable.”

“I’m not. Cullen…”

She put an arm around his shoulders.

“There will be a pretty person for you. One that makes you happy and you’ll have twelve cute, curly children and three mabari.”

“Twelve children?”

“Not to your liking? Only mabari then. A whole litter of slobbering Fereldan dogs.”

They laughed together and the tension was gone for this time. Maybe they should’ve a talk later about feelings and all the things a good soldier couldn’t handle that well.

“Persephone?”

“Yes?”

“Ask Gaspard to abandon the idea of invading Ferelden for the next hundred years. Please.”

“I will use my womanly charms to rescue your home.”

“I’d pay to see that.”

“You would.”


	8. dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the evil is defeated, time for a ball

++++   
“I look…” Persephone tugged at the golden fabric, trying to cover her nearly exposed front. This dress was a nightmare, golden and glittering and not leaving anything to the imagination. The tailor spoke of flames and the Maker when he presented her with it and she sure felt like being on fire, only for very different reasons. Her shoulders were too wide, hips to full, breasts too small. This wasn’t about confidence anymore, but presenting the Inquisition. Her advisers had made compelling arguments for a dress, before leaving for Orlais, but Persephone started to recognize the problems with such a plan. Josephine carefully put her hair in delicate braids. Her gentle fingers tried to ease some of the tension and failed miserable.

“Beautiful and stunning.” Persephone raised her brows and looked into the long mirror.

“Stupid. The word I looked for was stupid.” Josephine slapped her head, only a little, but it sill stung. Her friend stood on a stool, because otherwise braiding would’ve been pretty difficult, and sitting in that golden thing was out of the question. 

“You don’t look stupid.” Josephine almost made her believe it. 

“Yes, I do. And I’m going to trip and break a leg.” She could almost see it. The famous Inquisitor, defeater of Corypheus, breaking a leg in front of Orlesian Nobility. Another pin was added to her hair and made it stay in place.

“You won’t.” Persephone looked at herself and the huge scar, which was visible without her hair covering it. Fantastic. Another thing to be nervous about. She hadn’t felt like this in ages.

“I’m a warrior. I should wear my armor, maybe a sword or two.”

“No. That would be expected. Tonight we want to cause confusion and show that the Inquisition is more than a group of brutish soldiers. You’re blessed by Andraste and you’ll look like her.” The pictures of Andraste always showed her pretty blond and frail and rumors suggested that she’d been a mage, so Persephone wondered about the reasoning of her friend. And her inner circle know about what happened in the fade and how everything, especially her, was a fraud, not blessed by everyone. A mistake. Like so many times before. But she trusted Josephine, always had. Maybe a dress was the best option for a ball. After all, nobility cared about how you look.

“You and Leliana had fun planing this, don’t you?”

“A lot and you should see what we picked for Cullen.” Persephone laughed. Her Commander was still bitter about their first night at the Winter Palace and not happy about this either.

“Is it tight?”

“Very. You’ll surely have someone to talk and complain to.” An ally amidst the crows would be very valuable. Especially, if both were unhappy with everything.

“You’re evil.” Josephine’s smile was bright and innocent. No one would ever believe how easily it was for her to completely destroy someone with the right words.

“No. Just very concerned about your and his appearance.” She seemed to be satisfied with the result of her braiding and continued with applying powder onto Persephone’s face and chest. It also glittered. What was this stuff made off? Crushed crystal? Did she even want to know. Probably not.

“I feel like a court jester.”

“You’ll turn more than a few heads tonight.” Persephone was flustered. After defeating Corypheus and closing the gigantic breach in the sky, she shouldn’t feel like that, but her stomach was knotted and her fingers sweating. Demons she could defeat, a court was another manner. The invitation had been a surprise, a ball held in her honor, a ball to celebrate victory. Gaspard sure knew how to woe a woman and to order her around, even after having a discussion about it. Maybe he was pressured into it as well? She would ask him later. The Inquisition had arrived three days ago, but there hadn’t been a single moment of them being alone, because they were caught up in political debates and planing for the ball. They hadn’t been one kiss or hug. It was straining and she hoped that everyone else had more fun than her right now. Josephine added a last touch of powder and Persephone was glad to be finally able to move again. 

She helped the other woman climbing of the small chair. “Is Queen Anora really attending?” Another woman in power would surely be a great addition to every feast, but given the circumstances Persephone was a bit weary of such news. 

“Yes. I saw the Fereldan delegation arriving yesterday.”

“Two rulers to impress then and what could go wrong with Orlais and Fereldan in the same palace. If we got a war on our hands tomorrow, we know who to blame.” Their history was built on blood and battles and betrayal. Josephine washed her hands in a small basin. She looked pretty and graceful in her dress, even adorned with many ruffles.

“Shht, don’t jinx it. The peace talks have been successful thanks to us and the Queen isn’t hotheaded enough to start an open war with Orlais. Or any kind of war for that matter.” Given her father that was a surprise. No one hated Orlais more than the famous Loghain. Persephone wasn’t good at reading, but even she’d listened to some of the tales of the Fereldan rebellion.

“We have about one hour left. You should eat something light.” She was too nervous to eat and ended with nibbling on a piece of dry bread, while Josephine offered some of her chocolate. Hopefully the taste of sweetness would help improve her mood.

Gaspard had chosen Halamshiral for the celebration. They’d met here, spent some good hours together, then went different ways. It was a strange feeling to be back, to walk the marble hallways and touch the statues, the gold frames of famous paintings. Banners of Orlais, the Inquisition and Ferelden were raised and such a strange sight side by side. Persephone was shaking slightly. She could already hear the voices of a large crowd and smell the food and wine. Josephine suggested to be fashionable late and so she was. A delicate, golden mask sat atop her nose and it made her cringe. Her skin felt itchy beneath the material. How could the Orlesian stand wearing them every day? Some servants scurried out of her way and she felt their eyes on her. Maker preserve me. She took a deep breath while walking through the massive door, which lead to the ballroom. Everything seemed quiet as of a sudden.

“I present Persephone Sabella Trevelyan. Herald of Andraste and the leader of the Inquisition.” Had that walk always been that long? Persephone straightened her shoulders, held her neck high, and tried to appear confident. Mumbling went through the crowd. She hated the half hidden faces and their not so subtle talks.It felt like a nightmare. Gaspard was positioned at the same balcony that had been used by Celene nearly a year ago. He wore armor, glinting and polished, but armor. Bastard. The De Chalons mask seemed new as well and she made a curtsey, deep enough to show respect and maybe cleavage. 

Gaspard bowed his head. “We’re honored by your presence, Inquisitor. Allow us to celebrate your glorious victory tonight and the bonds of friendship between us.” Persephone wouldn’t have called it friendship, but if it pleased the crowd, it should do. She met his eyes.

“You have my gratitude and my sincere thanks, Your Imperial Highness.” And then the worst part was over. Other guests were announced and Persephone watched the Queen of Fereldan walking through the crowd, as if she belonged here. Her dress was quite plain, but hugged her figure, and her golden hair formed a halo atop her head. She was proud and beautiful and Persephone was stunned by her presence. The Queen wasn’t married, bore no children, and still her people loved and respected her. Hopefully there would be the chance of talking to her, but right now she found herself near Cullen, who’d stood in a corner, already drinking some wine. He was pale in his dark uniform, which looked maybe a notch too tight. Josephine hadn’t been lying and Persephone felt nothing but sympathy for him. They were both dressed up like dolls to impress some nobles. Cullen looked her over, eyes lingering a second too long on the bare parts of her appearance. His voice was gruff.

“Enjoying the evening, as much as I do?” Music started playing and small groups of people started talking to each other and she hoped that they could drown in the crowd for a bit. Later she needed to greet and talk to allies and strangers and it was already unnerving. At least her friends were here. Sera, talking to some elven servants, Bull scaring people away, Dorian being the center of attention yet again, while Cassandra declined every offering for a dance and Varric was signing books somewhere. Vivienne wore something frilly tonight. Maybe the last time, before officially becoming Divine and Thom fought with a crowd of admirers. His beard caused quite the stir among the female nobility. Everyone was here tonight, aside from Solas. He was still missing, gone after the final battle. Persephone took Cullen’s wine and took a sip herself. While she and the mage hadn’t always seen eye to eye, she still missed his stories and discussions. Leliana’s scouts were looking for him and found nothing but a trail gone cold.

“Yes, but I’m glad, I’m not the only one wearing something stupid.” Cullen snorted.

“I can’t even move properly, because I’m afraid that the fabric will tear and Orlais will see my naked butt.” Persephone knew that half of Orlais would be indeed happy to see the naked butt of Cullen. It was a fine one after all.

“I know that feeling. We should plot our revenge soon.”

“We will.” Laughter made this evening bearable. Cullen did. Their friendship was based on pragmatism and sparing and a common hatred of court. Persephone waved at a servant.

“We need more wine.” She hadn’t eaten enough and it soon made her lightheaded. Cullen’s face seemed flush as well and he pointed at the floor, which lay beneath them. “Want to dance?” 

Persephone’s voice was maybe a tad too loud, because some other guests raised their heads. “What?” 

Cullen rubbed his neck. “A dance.”

“No.” She shook her head and hope that it didn’t sound to crass. The Commander looked pretty stricken at her sudden answer. Since when did Cullen started dancing? 

“I mean, I have to make my rounds now. Josephine looks already pretty impatient and I don’t want Leliana to drag me there by my ears.” It was the best excuse to flee from the sudden awkwardness.

“Of course.” She squeezed his hand and moved.

Did she recognize some of the guests? She knew some faces, but not the names. Persephone greeted them anyway. Her hand was kissed, her dress praised, her boldness celebrated. Many offered her a dance, man and woman alike, some of them stunning and gorgeous, but she declined politely. Was there even a hint of truth in the words hidden behind masks? She didn’t know. Her head was spinning. It was time to found herself a hiding place again. She felt like punching something. The training fields of the palace were forbidden to enter at this time and Persephone started to look for Gaspard and found him surrounded by a group of young women. All rather slim and delicate looking. The flowers of the court. Giggling, charming, educated. She sighed and tried to focus on the other guests, because she knew that she could never compare herself to them. She was older, bore more scars, had fought more battles, didn’t move with the same grace. 

It wasn’t exactly envy, more the same old feeling of never being good enough for anyone. Gaspard had to marry, to produce heirs some day and many nobles wished their daughters to become an Empress. Was that jealousy? They hadn’t discussed anything about their relationship. If one could even call it that. They fucked, they had fun, bantered, fought, didn’t see each other for months. She could be herself around him and didn’t have to pretend to be smaller or more gentle. They just matched. The whole evening was making her soppy and drunk and she tried to spot a decent place to hide, when a hand tipped her shoulder. Persephone turned and faced the queen of Ferelden. Anora was a bit shorter than her, but her posture made them see eye to eye.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan. I wanted to great you in person.” Her voice was surprisingly warm and her eyes showed amusement.

“Your Highness, I’m honored.” The title made Anora smile and Persephone tried to guess, if she’d chosen the wrong form of addressing a queen.

“This is not the best place for talking, because everyone is too eager to listen to us, but if you would do me the honor of meeting me tomorrow at midday? We could go riding, because you seem eager to leave this palace, …even for a while. And believe me, I understand the notion.” Another smile and Persephone felt herself returning it.

“Gladly.” Well, that had been easy.

“Wonderful. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Try to have a bit of fun, Inquisitor. I heard that the food is really exquisite.” As short as the meeting had been, it made Persephone giddy and a bit lightheaded. Was she that easy to impress? The answer was yes, but she’d always had a weak spot for women like Anora. Riding out with a queen tomorrow. How far she’d come. Her parents would surely be proud by now, which reminded her that she still had to answer her sister’s letter and explain everything that happened in the past few weeks. Maybe tomorrow would be a good day for starting it, because how should she put everything into words? How her hand hurt at night, how she had an affair with the Orlesian Emperor, how she and her friends took down an evil Tevinter magister, who should have been dead centuries ago. She headed for the food, because by now her stomach started to make grumbling noises. Persephone wasted nearly an hour with tasting different fruits and cheese and very thin portions of meat. Interesting, but the sweet cakes were delicious. And the chocolate. She didn’t hear Gaspard approach, but his fingers were suddenly around hers.

Gaspard took her hand, made her follow him to one of the vast balconies. They were alone there, neither guards nor guests in sight. He faced the sky, as if trying to count the stars in the darkness. His voice sounded calm, hinged with a note of something that she couldn’t describe.

“Enjoying the evening? I’ve seen you talking to your Commander for white a while.” She crossed her arms before her chest, which wasn’t the best idea considering the cut of her dress.

“Jealous?” Gaspard tried nonchalance, but his whole body seemed on the edge, his fingers too tightly closed around a goblet. His mouth white and thin.

“No. I know that you’re mine.” The nerve. Persephone blinked. Did she have to answer that? Where did the sudden realization stem from? He’d watched her as well, while mingling with the women of his courtß Persephone took a step backwards. 

“I’m yours?”

“Yes and have been for a while.” 

Her voice was louder now and angry. “I’m not something to be had, Gaspard.” Using his name always made him stop for a moment. He wasn’t used to people calling him like that. His shoulders sagged and he carelessly threw away the goblet to take her hands, kiss her knuckles. Gaspard’s breath was warm and reeking of wine and his short beard tickled. He was clearly drunk with his speech all slurred and eyes too soft.

“Persephone. Trust me, I’ve learned that in every possible way and you’re still mine.” That was the closet thing to I love you that she’d ever heard. Her heart was on her tongue and her body felt leaden. He wasn’t a man, who made such claims easily. Feelings meant weakness and she tried to laugh and found herself whispering instead.

“So, no one else interesting enough to capture your interest?” His fingers touched her mask, gently following the trail of gold and amber.

“No. Not in a long time.” She pulled him down for a kiss and tasted berries on his tongue. It was soft and fragile and Persephone didn’t know that he was capable of that. Gaspard’s arms encircled her and pulled her closer. His armor was cold against her skin. She didn’t mind much. Being a bit drunk and melancholic, she wouldn’t also mind staying here with him forever.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“That has to be a first one.”

“Hey, don’t ruin this perfect romantic moment.” His chuckle was deep and he took her hand into his, put his other arm around her waist, and started to move them in slow circles. They didn’t actually dance, but moved to the faint music. Persephone sighed and the corners of her mouth lifted.

“Guess, I’m truly yours then.” 

Gaspard smiled. 

“You are.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I screw around with canon a bit. Gaspard is around 50 in this story and does not wear a mustache (I imagine him looking like a good mix of Vincent Cassel and Jean Dujardin). Posted this story on tumblr first and I still got no beta and English is not my first language *duh*


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